


different

by txmaki



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, also i realized near the end it ends the same as my 'dreams' work, b sure to listen to a really nice + romantic soft song while reading!!!, o well im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txmaki/pseuds/txmaki
Summary: “Well, now,” Kyoya says, his voice a little quieter as well. He looks you in the eyes and your heart leaps. “At least practice with me now. Humor me a bit, would you?”You shouldn’t. You know that you should tell him no, that you have homework, but your heart is haunting your body and its every move, telling it what to do and who to throb for. Your fingertips touch his gently as a mellow song starts to play.





	different

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really proud of this! it's kinda short but i hope yall like it either way!

There was something about Kyoya Ootori. Something off, but not quite dangerous. In fact, that something was almost appealing. Attractive, even. You weren’t sure what it was, that something, but you didn’t want to be near nor far from it. Trying to find the small Goldilocks zone was almost impossible - you had seen people try to navigate it; girls had tried to get close in hopes that Kyoya would be more than the heartless shell everyone saw, and boys in order to find some type of business arrangement.

 

You didn’t know what the hell he was asking for when he mentioned you working for the Host Club. Or, more specifically, you guessed, Kyoya himself.

 

“I’m sorry - what?” You had asked, taking the other earbud out of your ear. The gentle static of the continuing song played from the speaker.

 

“It’s exactly as I said,” Kyoya responded, scribbling whatever it is he usually does in that notebook of his. “I’d like to hire you as a performer for the Ouran Host Club. You have quite a lovely voice and I believe it would increase almost every positive aspect of the club.”

 

You’d flushed slightly at the sudden compliment and had opened your mouth to say something, but the look in Kyoya’s eyes let you know that there’s no other option. You sighed instead, looking at him with the smallest of smiles.

 

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, huh?” You said, and Kyoya smirked the way you’ve always seen him.

 

“I suppose not. We’ll be in music room three.”

 

-

 

Now, a week later, you stand outside the large doors of music room three, unusually nervous for something as simple as opening a door. Perhaps it wasn’t the action itself but rather thinking of what was waiting inside.

 

Nonetheless, you put your hand on the knob and turn.

 

The door opens and you’re immediately caught in the onslaught of a sweet smell of roses and a hint of tea, and all of the school’s prettiest boys are sitting together in a far-too-planned way. You’ve never visited, but a few friends of yours have, and you know which boys are which just by looking at them - you would even just by how the girls in your class speak of them.

 

“Ah, a beautiful new princess,” you hear a soft voice say, and it draws you out of your thoughts. You want to laugh at the cheesy line, but instead you smile softly and let things continue.

 

Tamaki Suoh comes into your line of sight, violet eyes gleaming. You weren’t going to deny it, Tamaki was surely handsome - pretty, even - but his lines are too much. He holds your hand in his and leans down to kiss the top of it. You let him, sparing his ego by not pulling away.

 

“May I ask why you’ve suddenly dropped in, princess?” Tamaki asks in a voice you know isn’t really his own, and you squint your eyes slightly before answering.

 

“Actually, I’m looking for Kyoya.”

 

Tamaki never falters, leading you to where now most of the hosts are lounging until the flood of guests comes in, which shouldn’t be long. Kyoya doesn’t look up from that black notebook even when you’re standing right in front of him.

 

“Y/N, nice to see you,” He says, and you hum in response. “Am I to assume you’re here because of the offer I made you?”

 

You scoff lightly and he finally looks up from his book. “You didn’t give me much of a choice, Kyoya,” you say, and that usual smirk makes its way onto his lips.

 

“Right. Everyone, this is Y/N L/N. I’ve hired her to perform at our parties and gatherings.” Kyoya says, and immediately everyone looks at you in some sort of recognition, as if he’s spoken of you before. You wave with a soft “hey” and everyone greets you in a happy manner.

 

You’ve never been one for premonitions or gut feelings, but looking at everyone in front of you makes you feel like you’re home.

 

-

 

You groan and run a hand through your hair, bringing it back to pull the skin of your face back. Things just weren’t working, your voice wasn’t working - why wasn’t it working? The party is coming too soon, there’s not enough time to practice; especially with the way your voice decided to stop doing what it did best. You flop on the couch behind you, leaving the microphone be for the time being.

 

Only the Host Club members were currently in the room, putting chairs and tables to the sides of the wide room as you rehearsed and warmed up. The party was in less than a week and you don’t even know what you’re planning to sing. Haruhi comes up by the makeshift stage (which isn’t much of a stage at all, just you with a few speakers and a microphone) and giggles at you in a way you know isn’t full of malice.

 

“C’mon, you were doing great,” She (it hadn’t taken you long to figure out, and you’d promised you wouldn’t tell anyone) says, and you sigh. Being a vocalist was the number one thing you had going for you, and if the slightest thing was off…

 

“Oh no,” you say, looking up at Haruhi. “I suck. My voice is gone. Oh my God, I’m gonna die, Kyoya’s gonna kill me -”

 

“Now, why would you say that?” You hear Kyoya say (Speak of the devil, you think sarcastically) and when you turn around you swear you see a beast in his eyes. “You’re too valuable, I wouldn’t cut you down just like that.”

 

You laugh, but it has no humor in it. Haruhi pats you gently on the head.

 

“If you’d like, I can stay a little later to help you,” Kyoya says. You look up at him from your slouched place on the couch and raise an eyebrow.

 

“Really? That wouldn’t interrupt anything?”

 

Kyoya adjusts his glasses, pushing them farther up the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head with a, “no, I don’t believe I have anything planned tonight,” and it’s set in stone.

 

-

 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get on a roll. Your creativity shows through with your choices of songs to match the theme, and Kyoya’s realistic personality keeps you in check. He’s not booing you but rather expanding your ideas. It’s different.

 

Different like the way he seems to look at you, now.

 

-

 

You pull back from the microphone and sigh a mixed-feelings kind of sigh. Your voice isn’t the best it could be, but it’s definitely better than before. The sky outside is turning a purple-blue-with-a-hue-of-pink and the clock tower is a black shadow against the colors of the oncoming night. You almost want to paint it.

 

You’re about to start packing up when you hear someone at the door, and the moment they speak you know who they are without having to look.

 

“Y/N, staying late?” Kyoya asks, leaning against the door frame. You shrug, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

 

“You told me this had to be perfect, it’s your expectations I’m living up to.”

 

“Whatever makes it easier on you.”

 

You roll your eyes playfully, putting the majority of your things together, and hear Kyoya’s footsteps get louder as he approaches you. You had moved closer to the nearby couch to gather your belongings, and Kyoya now resides by a speaker no less than a foot and a half from you.

 

“May I… convince you to dance with me?”

 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and look up at Kyoya suddenly, laughing nervously in a “you must be joking” kind of way. The air leaves your lungs when the realization that he’s not kidding hits, and you want to, oh so badly, but you simply shake your head.

 

“I won’t have much time to be dancing, being the performer and all,” you murmur, because suddenly speaking at a normal level seems too loud. The air is thick in a way you’ve never felt before - not bad, just odd. Something off, but not quite dangerous.

 

“Well, now,” Kyoya says, his voice a little quieter as well. He looks you in the eyes and your heart leaps. “At least practice with me now. Humor me a bit, would you?”

 

You shouldn’t. You know that you should tell him no, that you have homework, but your heart is haunting your body and its every move, telling it what to do and who to throb for. Your fingertips touch his gently as a mellow song starts to play.

 

And suddenly, you and him are gliding along the linoleum floor, feet barely touching the ground. Kyoya leads with a beautiful grace unlike that something off about him. The two of you had made friendly conversation at first but the song’s notes are sinking into your skin and now it’s just you and Kyoya, swaying softly around the room. Your hands are clasped in his and your eyes are closed, drinking in the moment.

 

The song ends with a fading whisper, a final murmur of chords. You don’t move - you’re too afraid to, almost too afraid to lose the feeling of Kyoya’s hand in your own. The sky has turned black, now, the purple-blue-with-a-hue-of-pink a figure of memory.

 

No words need to be said, no actions to be done. You know how Kyoya feels by the way he gently holds your hand in his.

 

You meet his eyes and the world around you ignites.


End file.
